Sacrifice
by dragonflybeach
Summary: There is one sacrifice greater than laying down your own life to save the world. Spoilers through season 8 finale, then goes AU. (content warning - offscreen character death, implied suicide)
"Hey Sam, have you seen Bobby's book about water spirits?" Dean shouted. "I gotta look up something for Earl."

"Try my desk." Sam called back from somewhere down the hall.

Dean went to Sam's room and poked through the half dozen books on top. None of them were the one he was looking for, so he opened the top drawer. There were two more there, but still not the right one. He checked the second drawer, but it contained only papers, so he moved on to the third.

There were only two books in the bottom drawer. The one on top was Dad's journal. At the bottom of the drawer was a tattered brown leather scrapbook. Literally, it said "scrapbook" across the front in gold script, obviously some relic Sam found in one of the many abandoned storerooms in the bunker.

He flipped it open, expecting to see pictures of some long dead Men of Letters.

Instead, on the front page, was a picture Dean had seen many times. His parents, himself, and newborn Sam on the front steps of the house in Lawrence.

The following pages were filled with pictures of himself, with or without Sam, that he had never seen before.

Pictures of things that had never happened.

There was a picture of himself and Sam, their dad in between them, all three wearing suits and holding out their hands to show off matching Men of Letters rings.

There was a picture of Dean with Sam and Jess, both in graduation robes and caps.

There was a picture of Dean in a fireman's uniform, shoulder to shoulder with Sam, who wore a police uniform.

There was a picture of their mother, as she had looked in the djinn world, older than she had ever been in the real world, playfully swatting an adult Dean with an oven mitt.

There was a picture of Sam and Dean under the Grand Canyon sign.

There was a picture of him and Sam as children, with their father and their grandfather, at what appeared to be a wedding reception.

There was a picture in a courtroom, Sam in a suit leaning down to talk to Dean, seated at a table in an orange jumpsuit.

There was a picture of himself, proudly pointing to a lettered shop window that read "Dean's Auto Repair."

There was a picture of himself wearing a KU baseball uniform, and Sam wearing a Kansas State soccer uniform.

There was a picture of Dean with Lisa, Ben, and a green eyed little girl about two years younger than Ben.

There were other pictures, pictures of things that could have happened, like a selfie of the two of them in front of the Impala and Dean posing next to an actual old wooden Indian outside some tourist trap store, but Dean didn't remember them.

He heard Sam's footsteps approach, then stop at the doorway.

"What is this, Sam?" Dean asked, looking up in confusion. "What the hell is all this?"

Sam sighed. "Do you remember Metatron?"

"One of the Transformers?"

"No, Metatron. Not Megatron." Sam rolled his eyes. "He's an angel. Was an angel."

"I don't think we met that one, Sammy." Dean said, shaking his head.

"You didn't. I did." Sam answered softly, stepping into the room.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Do you remember Kevin?" Sam countered.

"Kevin who?" Dean shrugged.

Sam sighed again. "We found out there were tablets inscribed with the word of God. The God. Several of them, each relating to a different species of beings, like angels, demons, and Leviathans."

"Demons? Levia-whatever?" Dean looked as if his brother had lost his mind. "Angels, yeah. But those other things aren't real, Sam."

"Demons and Leviathan were real, Dean." Sam said, coming to sit beside Dean on the bed. "They're all gone now. The demon tablet had a series of tasks, a set of trials to close the gates of Hell forever, sealing all the demons inside. We found a teenage kid named Kevin who was a prophet and he translated it for us. The angel Metatron is the one who wrote the tablets for God. He was supposedly translating the angel tablet for Cas. I was going to close the Gates of Hell with your help, and Cas was going to close the Gates of Heaven."

"Why didn't we?" Dean frowned.

"We did, Dean." Sam shrugged. "That's why there aren't any demons any more."

"There are no such things as demons, Sam." Dean insisted.

"There used to be." Sam repeated. "They're sealed in Hell now."

"Then why don't I remember it?" Dean asked.

"Because you died." Sam whispered.

Dean's head turned sharply. "What? How? I think I'd remember that, Sam."

Sam sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before he spoke. "Dean, just let me tell the story, okay? Metatron tricked Cas. Instead of closing Heaven with the angels in, he cast all the angels out and took over Heaven himself. There was an angel named Naomi who was trying to stop him. She came to you, told you that if I completed the trials to close Hell, I would die. She had found out from Metatron. That was supposed to be the ultimate sacrifice, that I would give my life. You came to me and tried to get me to stop, but I was on the last step. Our parents were killed by demons ... "

"What are you talking about, Sam?" Dean snapped. "Our parents... "

"Listen to me, Dean!" Sam raised his voice. "Our parents were killed by demons! I was willing to die to keep anyone else from going through what our family went through. I finished the spell with you standing there shouting at me to stop. But I didn't die." He looked at his brother with something between desperation and despair, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "You did."

"Sam, I'm not dead and you're scaring me." Dean said, reaching up to check Sam's temperature.

Sam swatted his hands away. "Dean, just listen, please. Metatron lied to Naomi. The ultimate sacrifice wasn't to die, it was to lose what you love the most, over and over again. I'm immortal, Dean. All those pictures? Each one is from a different timeline, a different reality. In every one, you die, and I don't, and I can't stop it. That one?" He pointed to the photo with the police and fire uniforms. "You were in a burning building when it collapsed. This one?" He pointed to the selfie with the Impala. "You were shot hustling pool. This one?" He pointed to the sports uniforms. "Team bus crashed on an icy road. You were the only fatality. Naomi knew I was willing to die to seal Hell, but I never would have gone through with it if I would have dreamed you would die. She felt guilty that she hadn't realized Metatron tricked her. She told me the secret. If I find the version of you that remembers the night the angels fell, then it's over. I'm no longer immortal, I can die with you, and we can go to heaven together."

"So if I'm not the right Dean, that means you just wait for me to die?" Dean asked. "Then what?"

Sam's shoulders hunched. "You'll die. That night, I'll go to bed, and the next day I'll wake up in a different timeline, with a different Dean."

"How long have you been doing this, Sammy?" Dean said softly.

"According to the calendar, it's been a little over two years since the angels fell." Sam glanced up at his brother briefly, then dropped his gaze back to the photo album. "But you're the seventy sixth Dean. And some of them I lived with for years."

"But if I'm gone, tomorrow you'll have another Dean, and he might be the right one?" Dean pressed.

"In theory, yeah." Sam nodded.

Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "Go to bed, Sam."

Sam's head jerked up. "Dean."

Dean smiled sadly. "It's 9pm, Sammy. Stay here and go to bed."

"Dean, don't." Sam's eyes filled with tears.

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy." Dean winked at him. "Maybe the next one is the right one."

He patted Sam's cheek, then walked out of the room and closed the door.

Sam stretched out on the bed, listening as Dean's footsteps faded away.

Eighteen seconds after he couldn't hear them any more, he heard a single gunshot.

Sam sobbed into his pillow and prayed to whatever being that might be listening that the next one would be the right Dean.


End file.
